Some day I'll write about my pregnancy experience with Archer. I'm not ready yet, but I think I'm close. I need to do it before the memories are too far away and I find myself starting to try to piece together what I need to get out on paper.
Tonight was laundry night. Because Alanna had a sleepover this past Friday night, I stripped the downstairs guest beds and washed the sheets. The bed is a Full-Size trundle which works very well for guests, but is nothing overly fancy. We replaced the sheets about 2 years ago after I came home from the hospital.
The sheets are the same ones that we bought to rotate during my hospital stay. They were easy to wash, fairly wrinkle free and comfortable. It seemed like an easy thing to do to make the long stay a little more like home rather than sleeping on hospital sheets. So we bought two sets in different but complimentary colors and J would take a set home weekly and bring me back a clean set.
As I washed the sheets tonight, I couldn't help but think about using them while I was in the hospital. It's funny how little items and actions that are so seemingly unnoticeable in daily life can trigger emotions and memories.
I also realized something interesting. I've not actually MADE the downstairs bed since we've gotten the new sheets. I launder them, but then I lay them on the beds and walk away. J has been the one to make the beds downstairs. Perhaps by not making them, I'm not giving myself long enough to ponder the emotions they stirred up.
The Vasa Previa Sophia's Walk weekend is coming up this next weekend, the first weekend in October. Maybe I'll try to get all of my thoughts in this week while it is most definitely on my mind.
I found a journal I had started shortly after our first ultrasound with Archer. It all seemed so very normal. I wrote notes to him telling him how excited his big sister was about getting to see him even before he was born. I'll need to find those and perhaps type them in here as part of this journey.
So much is buried on this topic that I'm a bit afraid to dredge it up and out, but I think I need to. A part of my relationship with my son seems like it's missing and that I'm in denial of his existence let alone the impact of him getting here.
More to come. I need to figure out how to start.
10 years ago
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Writing about my fall and subsequent hospital stay was really important in processing my feelings about it. At the time, it was so there and overwhelming - I think you just get through it without really understanding how it affects you. When I read what I wrote, it can still bring me to tears but it's also a little like it happened to someone else. I think if you want to do this, you just start telling the story. You don't worry about exactly how - just tell the story. It'll probably jump around a bit and you'll go back and forth because different parts will invoke different memories. And if you want to share it, I'll be someone who will listen.
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